


A Dovecote in Twickenham

by echoslam



Category: DICKENS Charles - Works, Little Dorrit (2008), Little Dorrit - Charles Dickens
Genre: Birds, Child Care, F/F, Introspection, Post-Canon, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 11:57:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20891735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoslam/pseuds/echoslam
Summary: Wiser and world-weary, Harriet and Minnie are reunited.





	A Dovecote in Twickenham

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Verecunda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verecunda/gifts).

In her most selfish of daydreams, Harriet had once envisioned herself as mistress of the house.

Now, in the absence of Pet, it seemed she had finally gotten her wish. Mr. and Mrs. Meagles gave her free reign now. It seemed that they no longer possessed the energy to give her commands and admonitions, preferring to wallow in the shared loss of their beloved daughter.

Mr. Meagles was pleased to see that Miss Wade had not made her wretched. These days, he did not dare tell her to count to five and twenty yet again, lest she show him the violence of a thrown cushion or benight his ears with her cries of fury. Without such provocation, it seemed that her virtues became ever more apparent. Now without Pet's shadow cast upon her, the curiosity of the locals turned toward the Meagles' not-quite-daughter, the handsome girl with dark hair and dark eyes, always very neatly dressed.

She toured the cottage grounds with the measured, deliberate manner of a lioness surveying her territory. Her thoughts often returned to the past.

“When I am married you shall have my shawl and all of my nice things,” Minnie had said pleasantly that day, right before she’d taken off in a fit of rage. _To the devil with you and your old things_, she'd thought then. Harriet was sad to recall that her last words to her had been ones full of hate. The Meagles’ kindness had often felt like veiled oppression, but seeing them defeated and withdrawn brought her no joy. She and Miss Wade were very different creatures after all.

The day she carried the document box into Bleeding Heart Yard, Harriet had experienced a most invigorating sensation, the purposeful happiness of making something right. It was a feeling she wished to acquaint herself with more often. Who would have thought that the child of the Marshalsea would lay claim to a fortune? It appeared that reversals of fate were not unheard of in their world. If only it were Minnie's sad fate that could be unmade.

One day, several months after the wedding of Amy Dorrit and Arthur Clennam, she finally gotten her wish.

“Dear Pet is coming home!” Mrs. Meagles' eyes brimmed with happy tears as she read the letter. The return of mother and baby to Twickenham was the joy of her parents and the staff alike, and the house was a flurry of activity the week of her arrival. For her part, Harriet, could bear her no resentment after the knowledge of what had become of the person who she now recognized as her oldest friend. The cottage had been Minnie’s lifelong sanctuary, and as birds are wont to do, she returned to the place that had been her most comforting shelter.

When Minnie ran towards her the moment she stepped out of the carriage, calling out “Tatty!” arms outstretched, for once, the name did not rouse her anger.

* * *

In spring, the gardens were a riot of colors, and walking through them together, Harriet felt that she and Minnie were very much at peace with one another.  


Since she’d first arrived, Harriet had always been captivated by the Meagles’ feathered menagerie, the round-faced lovebirds, in jewel-like tones of blue and green, and the white, white doves. How fitting it was that it should have been the place where the courtship between Minnie and dear Henry had begun, lulled by the chirping of the captive birds and the sound of Minnie playing the pianoforte amid the grand cages of the garden.  


It was there that they strolled together, reminiscing over the events that had drawn them far out of their world and changed them forevermore. Exposed as they both had been to the tender mercies of the outside world, there was much to be shared between them.  


“It was a kind thing, what you did for dear Arthur,” said Minnie as they walked together, “I am sorry to have missed the wedding. It is a happy thing indeed for Miss Dorrit," Minnie beamed without a trace of insincerity. "She was a great comfort to me in Italy, you know.”  


_I could have been a comfort to you_, thought Harriet, surprised at the surge of resentment that welled up within her.  


“It was only by chance that I found the box,” she admittedly quietly. “I only did what I thought was right.”  


Harriet wished there was a way to demonstrate the depth of her regret that she had forsaken Minnie and her adopted parents. Knowing everything she now did about Mr. Gowan, she only wished she could have been present to prevent the exchange of vows. Minnie had been raised for better, had dreamed of better. A cynic might have expected that the wicked part of Harriet’s soul would have been glad to see her pampered mistress’s misfortune, but in truth, she felt only sorrow.  


Miss Wade had always been neat and precise, full of cunning. She’d been her protector for a time, but Harriet could never reconcile the depths of her secrets.  


Her tempers never passed quickly, certainly not within a count to five and twenty. It seemed to Harriet that with the Meagles she was always in a muddle, restless and distraught, but in her heart she could never truly despise them. Her new companion had never made her feel loved exactly, but she had fueled her anger and Harriet had been powerless to control her own feelings of spite when she reminded her of her grievances against the Meagles, which she always did in that calm way of hers. It was simply her nature to be insidious. Harriet could not help but feel that at all times, her gratitude toward her had been tinged with fear.  


Minnie had been lonely and miserable traveling through Europe. If only Harriet had been there, perhaps she could have made life bearable.  
In truth she had sensed it at once. If Mr. Gowan possessed an artist’s soul, how could he have been so unmoved by Minnie’s beauty? Why did he not leap at the chance to paint a portrait of her lovely countenance or sculpt her figure? Much to Harriet’s regret, it was not her only sin of omission.  


“To think that Miss Wade put you in the company of Monsieur Blandois,” Minnie had gasped. “I can only thank Heaven that you are safe. It is a very unhappy thing indeed to have knowledge of that man.” Harriet noticed how she suppressed a shudder at her recollections.  


“It was only a slight knowledge,” she defended anxiously.  


“He poisoned Lion, you know.” Minnie’s voice was grave. Harriet recoiled as she pictured what must have transpired. The loyal creature had been one of Pet’s few true friends.  


_Forgive me_, she thought, eyes toward the ground.

  


* * *

  


“What a dreadful story,” Harriet muttered, nose wrinkling in distaste as she closed the book and set it aside.  


They were sitting together in the garden, the three of them relaxing on the sunlit lawn in the quiet hours between lunch and teatime. She had been reading aloud to Minnie and the baby, but upon reflection, her choice of fairy tale – hastily selected from one of the translated collections in the library - had been poorly-considered.  


The Brothers Grimm surely had not been taking her feelings into consideration when they composed “The Goose Girl,” but Harriet could not help but feel a bit slighted all the same when she found herself reading out their rather gruesome account of a wronged princess and her wicked maid. If Pet had noticed her irritation, she seemed to be taking it in stride.  


“Miss Minnie! Miss Minnie!” one of the maids called as she raced over the grass towards them. “You have a visitor!”  


“Oh? I wasn’t expecting anyone,” her mistress commented absently. “Who is it that’s come to call?”  


“Mrs. Gowan!” blurted the maid, and Harriet felt the wrenching of her heart as she saw her friend stiffen.  


“Leave this to me, Minnie,” she said as she stood up and began walking towards the path, not bothering to listen for a response.  


Minnie’s mother-in-law was waiting in the parlor, dressed in her usual black, lips tight and cross, looking as shrewd and buzzard-like as Harriet remembered.  


“Where is Mrs. Gowan?” she asked sharply, the sight of Harriet clearly insufficient to inspire polite greetings.  


“_Miss Meagles_ has no business with you,” Harriet stated, hands clenched at her sides, “So I ask that you please leave at once.” She recalled how she’d always been wary of this bitter-looking woman, ever since she’d come to pester the family and rue the poor sense of her precious son in his marriage.  


“_You_ ask?” the woman sniffed dismissively. “Tell that grasping little harlot to come out here and speak to her mother. We have much to discuss.” It took all of Harriet’s willpower to not be overcome by the boiling rage within her.  


“You will not take the child away,” she said, taking deep, even breaths as she fought to quell her anger.  


“The child? Hah! That’s not why I’ve come. It’s Henry, you see. All these months he’s had to live like a pauper after being a slave to that vicious harpy of a wife. She has cost him the best years of his life, and I intend to have her make amends. He has lived without comfort for far too long, and I have come to collect the legacy that he is due.” She eyed the furnishings of the small but tastefully decorated room with hungry eyes, and it was that action in tandem with the cold dismissal of her own grandchild that finally made Harriet see red.  


Ever since the day she had witnessed how handily Miss Wade had dismantled Mr. Meagles when he’d come to fetch her, Harriet had secretly looked forward to the chance to display a similar icy strength. She’d practiced the words in her head, thought of all the cruel, cutting things she might say to the next person who would dare to come between her and her freedom. But then, events did not transpire as she had expected, and instead of soaring away like a courageous falcon, she had returned home again like just another one of the Meagles’ humble doves. The anger and resentment still lay dormant within her like gunpowder waiting for a spark.  


In the end Harriet was still Harriet, and this time she did not count to five and twenty.  


“Be gone with you!!!” she bellowed at the top of her lungs. The elder Mrs. Gowan was so startled she stood. “It is you who is the grasping and vicious one! You and your wretched charlatan of a son!” She brought her face close to the other woman’s. “Miss Meagles has suffered miserably because of him, defending his honor all the while.” She grabbed a cushion from the sofa and held it clenched tightly in her hands, as if making ready to hurl it as she once had at Mr. Meagles. "She is blessed to be free of you at last, and I will see to it that she remains so."  


Mrs. Gowan simply stared at her, eyes wide. After a few moments had passed, her hands reached out to clutch at her bag, and she began to slowly back out of the room.  


“The Meagles must be mad to keep a wild creature like this in their employ,” she said to no one in particular, and a dark look was all she left behind as she showed herself out. Harriet slowly unclenched her fingers and set the cushion back down as she gradually returned to her senses.  


She walked back outside, returning to the place where she and Minnie had been sitting with the baby. Awaiting her was a smile as bright as sunshine.  


“I just saw Mrs. Gowan storming down the path. I’ve never seen her look so vexed!” Minnie seemed to be suppressing a giggle. “Whatever you said, it must have been brilliant.”  


“I only spoke my mind,” Harriet murmured humbly. She watched intently as her friend continued to speak, fingers absently toying with the baby’s garments as she spoke.  


“I’ve always been so spoilt and stupid,” said Minnie, voice soft, “As foolish and gullible as the princess in your story.”  


“Minnie, you are no more a princess than am I your wicked maid! Better that you are a humble goose girl, and I will be your goose, ready to honk and hiss and carry on at whatever gives you discomfort.”  


Her companion gave a light chuckle. This was the passionate Harriet she'd always known. She gently set her child down on the blanket, stroking their flaxen curls before walking over to Harriet and touching her lips to the corner of her mouth. There was no art to her kiss, only gentleness, and perhaps a bit of hope.  


“Truly, you are our most valiant protector,” she said. There was amusement in her tone this time, and Harriet’s heart was lifted. “We have nothing to fear, surely, as long as you are by my side.” She gathered their things together before standing once again, taking the baby in her arms. Harriet took up the basket without a word of complaint.  


“We are two women in the May of our lives,” she declared cheerfully. “I dare say we have much to look forward to.” Minnie squeezed her hand then, prompting a meeting of gazes followed by a sharing of conspiratorial smiles and peals of laughter. They returned to the cottage together poised shoulder to shoulder, the lilting song of the birds - wild, domestic, and otherwise - following them as they walked.


End file.
